


Better already

by Anteros



Category: Hornblower (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 19:49:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1440652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anteros/pseuds/Anteros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Posted for the <a class="i-ljuser-profile" href="http://following-sea.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://following-sea.livejournal.com/"><b>following_sea</b></a> <a href="http://following-sea.livejournal.com/tag/challenge%3A%20way%20to%20a%20mans%20heart">Way To A Man's Heart</a> challenge.  I should probably add that this isn't nearly as grim as the title suggests. In fact there's only the tiniest smidgen of angst!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Better already

**Author's Note:**

> Posted for the [](http://following-sea.livejournal.com/profile)[**following_sea**](http://following-sea.livejournal.com/) [Way To A Man's Heart](http://following-sea.livejournal.com/tag/challenge%3A%20way%20to%20a%20mans%20heart) challenge. I should probably add that this isn't nearly as grim as the title suggests. In fact there's only the tiniest smidgen of angst!

Hornblower checked his watch and returned it to his pocket, frowning briefly. They should have been gone ten minutes ago, the launch was waiting, but there was still no sign of Archie. It took all his considerable will to resist pacing the quarterdeck and remain impassive. To give in to frustration would only have drawn attention to himself and he was aware that he was being watched. They were both being watched, _Renown_ ’s new lieutenants; watched, judged, their allegiances measured by a wary crew and guarded officers.

The first lieutenant crossed to the lee rail and stopped beside him.

“Aren't you for the dockyard today Mr Hornblower?”

“Aye sir.”

“Well then, shouldn't you be away man?” Buckland’s tone was brisk but, as always, he appeared somewhat distracted.

“Aye, sir,” Hornblower replied, keeping his voice carefully even, concealing any hint of impatience. “I’m waiting for Mr Kennedy sir, I believe he has despatches for the Port Admiral.”

“Has he? Has he indeed? Yes. Yes of course. Very good. Well, carry on Mr Hornblower.”

“Aye, aye sir.” Hornblower saluted smartly, but he remained where he stood, leaving the senior officer to drift back to the weather side of the quarterdeck.

Their first two weeks aboard _Renown_ had been trying ones, beating up and down the Channel, first to the Nore for unspecified orders that never appeared, then back to Portsmouth, only to be caught off Spithead in a squall that carried away their fore t’gallant before they could strike the yards. They had seen little of the captain since their arrival; “indisposed” the doctor had explained, an old complaint, he had been at the Nile of course, one of Nelson’s own. Archie had been noticeably unimpressed. Buckland, the first lieutenant, was an older man with a faint air of disappointment about him, and during their short cruise to the Nore, Hornblower had seen little that recommended him as an officer. They were missing their second, a Mr Bush, who was due to join them from Hamoaze at the end of the month. The warrant officers seemed a douce, competent bunch, who kept themselves to themselves by and large. All except the gunner, whose eyes were everywhere, watching, observing. There was something in his gaze that spoke of insolence and insubordination, and his presence made Hornblower uneasy. The midshipmen were an arrogant, disorderly lot for the most part, barring one or two with a spark of character that had not yet been extinguished.

Hornblower took long steady breaths, counting off each one with deliberation. It was the next best thing to pacing. The bell sounded and still no sign of Kennedy but the boatswain was hurrying across the deck towards him.

“Begging your pardon sir.”

“Yes Mr Matthews?”

“Mr Kennedy's complements sir, he's been detained in the gunroom but’ll be with you soon as, sir.”

“No trouble I hope?”

“No sir,” Matthews replied, but he frowned as he spoke. He glanced surreptitiously over his shoulder before adding in a low voice “Couple of the oldsters getting a bit heavy handed again. Mr Kennedy said he’s dealing with it sir.” Matthews frowned again and shook his head, “Weren’t like this on the old Indy sir, captain’d never stand for that sort of thing.”

“Come Mr Matthews,” Hornblower chided, “that kind of talk won’t do, we are Renowns now.” But his admonition lacked conviction, Matthews was right, Pellew would never have stood for the casual bullying and petty misdemeanours that Captain Sawyer was either oblivious of or content to ignore.

Hornblower’s immediate inclination was to go straight to the gunroom to intervene, but he knew that would only undermine Kennedy’s authority in the eyes of the junior officers, and he had no wish to do anything that might call into question his friend’s ability to command. Archie was more than capable of dealing with a bunch of unruly mids, Hornblower attempted to reassure himself, however he was more relieved than he liked to admit when Kennedy appeared on deck a few minutes later.

Kennedy caught his eye in a brief, silent acknowledgement before making straight for a figure slouching in the waist. Hornblower recognized him a midshipman, one of the oldsters, a tall sullen young man, whose fine prospects had been ruined by a vicious temper and an over fondness for drink. The mid gave a desultory salute as the fourth lieutenant approached, but continued slouching by the gun. Hornblower was too far away to hear Kennedy's words but he saw the moment that he spoke and the midshipman snapped to attention. He was a huge man, a good head taller than Archie. Hornblower watched as Kennedy stepped forward, his hands taut by his side, his whole frame radiating suppressed fury. As Kennedy spoke, the mid lifted his chin in a token of defiance, but Hornblower could tell by the slump of his shoulders that he had been put firmly back in his place.

Without wasting any further time they made their way straight down into the waiting boat.  
“Trouble?” Horatio enquired quietly as they settled themselves in the stern sheets.  
“The usual.” Archie replied, frowning.

There was no conversation on the short pull across the anchorage. Horatio could feel the tension coiling through Archie as he sat by his side, and from the corner of his eye he could see the pulse flickering at the tight angle of his jaw.

Archie took his leave as soon as they stepped ashore and Horatio watched his back anxiously as he disappeared into the crowd thronging the dockside.

They met later for dinner at a respectable but unremarkable inn set well back from the docks. Archie looked tired and drawn as he sat down.

“Trouble with the Admiral?” Horatio asked as he slumped into his seat.

“The Admiral? No. It’s that ship.” Archie sighed, rubbing his hand across his eyes. “God help us Horatio, I can’t breathe on that damned ship. It’s not right.”

“I’m sure we’ll get used to it Archie.” Horatio attempted to reason. “It’s not the _Indefatigable_ to be sure but I’m sure we’ll settle in soon enough.”

“No,” Archie shook his head, "it’s not just that, it’s more than that…”

But whatever it was, Archie did not explain and the arrival of dinner put paid to any further discussion.

They ate perfunctorily, with little conversation. Horatio barely tasted the food; eating was simply another task, another obstacle to be overcome. They retired as quickly as decency allowed and at last they were alone. Alone in a room with a door that locked; a door that shut out prying eyes and suspicious glances. The bed was of secondary consideration. There was no time for ceremony, no time to linger over kisses, to revel in the yearned for touch of skin. Need drove them past all that. Archie had him pressed hard against the door the moment the key was turned and Horatio was momentarily stunned by his sheer strength and the ferocity of his kisses.

They shed their clothes in short order, and went down onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. Horatio felt the breath go from his lungs as Archie’s full weight came down on top of him. He couldn’t breathe and his head was swimming, but he drew Archie closer, pulling him down into a fierce kiss. There was no thought, no consciousness, only heat and want and that desperate need to consume and be consumed. Archie was pushing against him, hard and insistent and Horatio threw one leg over his thigh, drawing him in as his body arched up to meet him. Then that pause, that brief moment of perfect stillness as he felt Archie pressing hard against him. His grip tightening on Horatio’s shoulder as the pressure yielded and slid in a single piercing moment heat and pain. Then they were moving together, sliding into that familiar rhythm that was theirs and theirs alone, Archie’s hand tightening on his shoulder with each thrust, until desire overtook them, obliterating everything in a single blinding moment of overwhelming release.

It was over in minutes; there had been no time for tenderness, just that desperate headlong rush towards release. Afterwards they lay breathless, beached beyond the tidemark of their own desire.

Archie spoke first. “I needed that.”

“I know. So did I. Are you alright Archie?” Horatio raised himself on one elbow and looked down at his friend. His face was flushed and his eyes shining, but there was still a hint of tension around his jaw.

“Yes,” Archie smiled, “better already.”

The second time was slower. They lingered over ever curve and callous, every kiss and caress.

It was dark when Horatio awoke, Archie was dressing quietly beside the bed.

“Archie? You going?”

“Yes.” Archie stooped down and kissed his brow. “Time to go. It's gone six bells and I'm on middle watch.”

“I'll come.” Horatio struggled to sit up, woozy from sleep.

“No, Horatio you stay. We've paid for the bed, you might as well enjoy it. You’re not due back till the morning.” He placed a long kiss on Horatio’s lips and was gone.

The door closed and Horatio was alone. Alone but not alone, Archie’s presence lingered, it never left him. The bed was still warm beside him, Horatio rolled over into the space vacated by Archie, pressing his face into the pillow, drinking in the scent of him, and fell asleep. 


End file.
